Seven Times
by CrimsonRainsChronicals
Summary: There were several times he told Ivan this, but only seven were truly important. Russia could never forget them, not matter how much he wanted too. America seems to have that effect on everyone, not in the same way though. YAOI Russia/America onesided?


**AN**: ARGGGGGG! Stupid story. Had to take it down - and put it back up. Sorry. Finally got the time to sit down and type this out. It's just a oneshot sooo yeah. I'll work on typing my other stories later. I just haven't really had the time. My friend edited this for me(so if there something messed up - go yell at her! *shot* no jk)

**Warnings**: Cussing, violence and character death if you want to in interpret it that way

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters - sadly :c

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_The first time didn't phase him. America was merely a child, and didn't know the meaning of those words._

Russia stood at the door waiting. He decided to give it a few more moments, before knocking again. Around him the restless nature scurried around. It was hot. Well to him it was. Living in a wasteland of snow made normal temperatures seem unbearable. As a bird screeched, he gave a twitch. Russia knocked again, this time it was impatient and hurried. But still there remained no answer. He gave a breathy, annoyed sigh and tried again. So loud that birds and critters scattered in all directions. He heard a echoing crash and a long string of curses. This was normal and expected really. He never liked England.

"O-One moment!" called the voice behind the door.

Another crash. Russia's patience was running thin, about ready to open the door and walk in himself. But what he didn't expect was a young child opening the door just before he did. Blue eyes stared into violet.

"Big Bro'der ish a little busy sowery."

Russia stared, the boy could not be a little older than four. He was a small, skinny child with messy ragged golden-blonde hair.

"Your, брат?" the nation repeated.

He only realized that it came out as Russian when the child gave a blank stare,"Wah?"

"Sorry," he sighed. "Your, brother?"

The child's eyes lit up at this,"Yeah, Engwand ish my big bro'der."

"я видеть."

Before the boy had a chance to reply an older man pulled him back,"Alfred!"

"Eh?" he blinked, startled.

It was England, even if it took Russia a moment to realize it. His shirt was ripped, hair flipping in all directions and look completely – un-England. But nether less, Russia did _not_ want to learn how he became that way. Part of his mind wanted to ask if France was over. He knew better though, the question would not receive a...polite answer.

"I hope he was not that much of a bother," the other sighed.

Before Russia asked who, the small child had gave a squeal, oh right – him.

"нет, not at all. Who is he, may I ask?"

The child jumped at this question, replying before England,"I'm America!"

"Shush, America!" the Brit gave a growl.

He whined softly,"Sowery."

Russia had heard rumors about the new world, but did not picture this. America was only a little child, and under England's care? More surprising than the first fact. There was gossip that he did go along with England, but it's not like he believed it. Who would want to stay with England anyways?

"Америка?" he repeated.

Alfred looked up,"Y-Yeah."

"It is nice to finally meet you," Russia smiled setting his hand on the boy's head.

America giggled reaching up, cling to it with his own. Unlike the two, England was not pleased. His eyes narrowed, as if trying to burn through the Russian. This – only made Russia grin more.

"Come in, let us get this meeting over with," snarled England, storming inside.

After he had left the other two, Russia took the chance to scoop America into his arms.

"Wha's your name, miwster?"America blinked, nuzzling into his shoulder.

Russia smiled,"First. May I call you Alfred?"

A quick nod.

"Then call me, Ivan."

Alfred grinned hugging his neck,"I luff you, Ivan!"

And Russia just smiled, because America was a mere child.

_The second time only amused him. America a little too eager to even being understand the real world. He would grow out of it with time – or at lest Russia hoped._

"So we finished the Constitution and broke away," the small blonde shrugged, finishing his story.

Russia chuckled, "England must be thrilled."

"Yeah, _thrilled_," the American cringed.

"And are you sure you're ready for this?" the Russian mused.

American chose his words carefully before speaking, "I...I _think_ we can, or at least have some chance. The states are pretty tough – and this is what they want. Everyone else seems to think different, though."

"Everyone else?"

He sighed at this,"All the other nations. They think I'm crazy for doing this. I hear them talking behind my back, whispering. Well hey, what if I am? Not that I would know or anything."

"Maybe a little," Russia smiled. "But does their opinion really matter, does mine? Everyone has a little crazy in them it just depends on how you go about showing and controlling it."

America laughed, "You mean how you show yours with that big pipe?" He received a snort and then continued, "Well I would like your opinion to matter – but you have a point, I guess."

"You can," Russia said simply.

The younger man tilted his head, "Huh?"

"My opinion – is that you could successfully separate from England. If your willing to put your head and heart to it. Otherwise – give up." he explained.

America gave another laugh and pulled Russia into a hug. He jumped at first, ready to push away, but the American's grip was pretty tight.

"Love yah, Ivan. You're the best."

Russia blinked processing the words, and reluctantly returned the embrace.

"Did it really matter that much to you? I did not think you remembered our meeting, Alfred."

He grinned back,"How could I forget? Really, how could anyone forget about a guy like you?"

Russia did not reply, he knew a lot of people would _like_ to forget about him.

_The third time was only stress that built up. America was not used to all of it. Russia had been the one there but if it was anyone else, the reaction would have been the same._

"So, how have you been?" America asked looking for some cups.

Russia watched his movements, they were clumsy – well more than normal,"Fine, but what about you?"

"Me?" America blinked. "Never better."

"Really?" he hummed faintly.

America raised an eyebrow,"Yeah. Why...?"

"You do seem a bit unwell," Russia mumbled reaching out to brush a few stray hairs out of the others eyes.

He was returned with a sigh, "Just a little...under the weather."

"Why so?"

America's fists clenched, "I think – no, I know...but."

"Know what?"

"I'm having a Civil War," he said bluntly.

Russia stared for a moment before pulling him into his arms. America was just a child, and it seems the right thing to do. You must comfort children, or you are supposed too – not that Russia had any of that growing up. The blonde leaned in and began to tremble.

"I don't know what to do, Ivan." he whispered.

Russia held on tighter, "It shall pass – be strong – brave. You're the hero, да?"

America gave a shaky sigh before looking up at him.

"T-Thank you," he smiled faintly.

Russia opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly a pair of lips crashed against his. He started as America _kissed_ him. Alfred pulled back a few moments later and buried himself into the Russian's shoulder. There was not much that happened after that. Of course Russia denies that America spoke after that.

"Love you...Ivan," the boy said, half asleep.

Because America did not, _really_. Why else would Russia say so?

_The forth time was just a comfort thing. It. Meant. Nothing – to Russia. America might say different._

Ivan grinned, his teeth to the point where his jaw began to ache. Russia breathed out shakily and closed his eyes. Memories flooded to his mind, and a whimpered sounded. If was from him or someone – something, else – he did not know.

Blood. Blood. Bodies. Bodies of mothers, of their children, of the fathers-

"стоп!" he screamed.

Suddenly there was a crash and Russia braced himself.

"Ivan?" called a voice.

It was America. But, who else would it be?

"да, Alfred?" he strained to keep a steady voice.

The small blonde squeaked and suddenly tackled the other.

"Oh I heard that you were sick – but this bad? Y-You should of got me!" America rambled on clinging to the older man.

Russia grunted, not really sure how to respond. While the American fussed and pulled him up, he remained silent. Ivan was told to sit on the couch while the other nation ran off talking about cooking something. Russia did not bother to tell him, he was going the wrong way. As he lied down, the Russian listened to the clanks of pots and pans as America attempted to fix something. Russia did not know when he fell asleep, but found himself waking up in his bed. Turning to his right there was America curled up to his side. The boy's eyes fluttered open and a wide grinned ran across his face.

"You're awake!"

Russia frowned,"да."

"What's wrong, big guy?" the other crept over getting face to face.

Russia growled, pushing him away,"Go home, America. You are not needed here."

He expected the younger to listen, but that was not the case.

"_Leave_, America." he ordered again.

Alfred gave a deep sigh before pulling him into a hug, "No need to act all tough and stuff around me, yah know?"

Russia gave an unamused snarl, trying again to push him off – but failed.

"Look big guy," he grunted, struggling to keep hold.

Russia glanced at him,"да?"

"If you're worried about me tellin' someone or that I'm expecting something out of this – then don't."

There was a snort, "Why should I trust you?"

"'Cuz I love yah, Ivan – you're my best – well only – friend!" the America pouted cling to him tighter.

Russia growled struggling more, it was only out of comfort. He only said it out of pity. That was just Russia's opinion.

_The firth that was just pure thrill. America was an extremely easily excited person – and winning a war like that, was too much._

Everyone was throwing a party. Well, if you were on the winning side that is. They had just won World War II – it was finally over. Russia smiled, tipping up his bottle of vodka. He was enjoying himself. Soon enough the bubbly little American had to bounce on over – talking a mile a millisecond. But Ivan was use to it, he spent enough time with America to obtain the ability to _not_ get confused every time the boy opened his mouth.

"And like BAM – we won. You really helped too, big guy!" Alfred chirped happily.

Russia chuckled,"Really?"

"Yes – really!" he huffed in response.

Ivan tilted his head and smiled, patting the other on the head. America gave a whine of protest, but clung to his hand. They looked at each other, Russia quickly looking away. Alfred gave grabbing the scarf and giving a yank. Their lips locked, Russia's eyes narrowed.

"You, really helped, Ivan." he whispered. "Got it?"

"да."

The America snorted, "Don't speak your Russianese on me, dude."

"I think you do that just to any everyone," Russia grunted.

Alfred flashed a grin,"Oh – you caught me. Who would pay attention if I didn't say stupid things anyways?"

"You have a point," he mused. "I wouldn't."

America stuck out his tongue,"Yeah, yeah thanks Ivan. That's what I get for loving an bastard like you?"

Russia took this moment to notice how close the boy was clinging to him. He would let it pass – for the moment. The older nation really did not want to listen to America's complaining if he pushed him away.

_The sixth time, was – well. No one really wants to talk, or even think about those times._

America winced as a sting of pain shot through his body. He whimpered tumbling back slightly and griped his now bleeding shoulder. Blood oozed from the wound, slipping through his figures and movement was not unbearable. Russia was standing across from him, gun in hand.

"Ah, and here our little capitalist pig has finally gotten struck. How does it feel to be on this end, да?"

America growled, "Go fuck yourself commie."

There was another crack of the gun but he dodged this time. Even if was just barley quick enough. Alfred ignoring the ripping pain through his body as he pulled out his own weapon. He fired quickly as possible, hearing several Russian curses afterwords. Russia shot again this time hitting his leg and America yelped falling backwards. The other quickly made his way over pulling Alfred up by his shirt.

"Are you proud, Ivan? Taking everyone's freedom away?" the American smirked.

Russia punched him in the face, "You are but a foolish child."

"I am."

Ivan gave a confused look, and America spoke again, "Don't. I'm agreeing with you, bastard."

"Why?"

There was a click and the world flipped. Russia was lying on his back with America's one hand around his throat. He other held a gun to his head, as he hovered over Ivan.

"Foolish for this," he purred. "Я люблю тебя, Ivan Braginski."

America gave a shaky laugh and growled through his teeth, "And sometimes I wonder why I do."

Russia did not reply.

_There were several other times after that. More than Russia could remember, maybe more than he wanted too. But there was one more that counted. Each of these other times, he only replied with an 'I know', or walked away. America never minded, not even at the end._

They sat in silence. America lay on the bed, Russia on a chair beside him. Neither dared to speak, and the silence just seemed on continue on forever.

"You know," America began carefully. "I used to be sitting by you a lot – it's a...change of scenery."

Ivan stared giving a shrug, now looking down and fidgeting with his hands.

"Really talkative today, aren't we?" Alfred smiled.

Russia sighed, shrugging again.

"Thanks," America rolled his eyes. "Ivan."

He looked up from his hands, "да, Alfred?"

"Люблю тебя, you commie bastard," he grinned.

He stared, "I know."

America never expected a different answer anyways.

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**AN**: So the end can be taken two ways. 1) Russia was just being all 'manly' and never wanted to admit loving America - and America is just temporarily sick. OR 2) America was in love with Russia - been telling him this his entire life, and Russia really never him back. America dies at the end of this one.

I will tell you the second way was the intended way _but_ you can interpret it as the first. Please review!


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